


Wild Again, Beguiled Again

by remivel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, M/M, Violence, cursing, dead bodies, graphic depictions of sex, lots of food and baked goods, witchcraft not entirely based on SPN canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 03:41:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remivel/pseuds/remivel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. A witch was killing people in Pontiac, Illinois and when Sam and Dean came to investigate, Sam met a young baker who wore weird costumes every week, ate burgers for breakfast, and had the ability to turn Sam back into an awkward teenager whenever he was around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild Again, Beguiled Again

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** since my lovely recipient, tawg, has forgotten her prompt, I chose not to write it here. Prompt at the end if you really wanna know. It kind of spoils the fun, though.  
>  **Note:** I encountered some problems while writing this, hence the late submission. So sorry about that. Title from the song Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered (Pal Joey musical version) and chosen especially because I am in love with these lines: “I’m wild again, beguiled again, a simpering, whimpering child again.” The song itself may or may not be related.

**Part 1:**

      It was his hands that Sam noticed first.

      His eyes were casually roaming the diner when they fell on those long, elegant fingers that went tap tap tap to a silent song on the linoleum tabletop. He turned his gaze to the man’s other hand holding a cup of coffee, a pinky not quite curled around the mug’s handle. There was a trace of fine, white dust on his knuckles and on the sleeves of his blue sweater. Maybe he worked in construction, a builder or an architect off for a quick break from work at the site, Sam thought. Or maybe he was an artist, out of his studio after days of sculpting his latest masterpiece. 

      Sam lifted his gaze to the man’s face, and licked his lips unconsciously. He was certainly… attractive. The man was thin, pale skin a stark contrast to the shock of black messy hair on his head. Artist looked more and more likely. The man’s big blue eyes were staring at something out the window, and he looked… preoccupied. Like he was calculating some big mathematical problem inside his head, or thinking if he left the iron on at home. The minute the waitress handed him his take-out bag though, he turned and smiled at her, and just that tiny quirk of the corner of his lips made all the difference. She smiled brightly back at him and asked him some question or another. He shrugged as he stood up and turned around to grab his coat off the back of his chair.

       “Nice ass.”

       “What?” Sam tore his gaze away from the man to give Dean an incredulous look.

      Dean had a wide smirk. “That waitress,” he clarified. “You were starin’ kinda intensely at her for a moment there Sammy, I thought I lost you for a second.”

       “I wasn’t staring at the waitress,” Sam denied with a frown.

       “Oh right,” Dean nodded. “You weren’t. I get it,” he said, and there was something about the way Dean spoke that indicated quite clearly that he knew exactly what Sam was staring at. It was irritating.

      Sam shifted on his chair uncomfortably. “Can we just focus on the case for a moment?” He asked, flipping through the papers in front of him.

       “Sure,” Dean said with that same smirk. “I mean, I wasn’t the one who got so distracted with the view in the first place.”

       “Dean,” Sam said in warning, sending his brother a glare. Dean just chuckled as he opened the police report folder in front of him.

+++

      There have been three mysterious deaths in Pontiac, Illinois in the same month. The first was businessman burned to death in his fireplace. The second, a mechanic ran over by an empty truck in his junk yard. Their first day in Pontiac, Sam and Dean already discovered what they were up against. Hex bags were hidden in the first two crime scenes, a tell-tale sign a witch was on a rampage.

      As they investigated the two men’s death, a third victim was added to their list.

       Louise Brown died in front of the altar on her wedding day, the corset of her gown tied so tight it disfigured her torso, broke her ribs and suffocated her. Sam and Dean had been to the church to investigate, and though they have yet to find where the hex bag was hidden, according to Dean, it had the ‘stench of witch’ all over it.

      Still, with nothing to go on except the fact that they were dealing with one angry witch, Sam and Dean drove around town, interviewing the wedding guests and anyone that may have had some sort of interaction with the bride on the days prior to her death. They still had a few people to go through, but barely two hours after having lunch, Dean decided he was in need of some pie, and skipped right to the baker on the list.

+++  
      As the Impala pulled up in front of the Le Ciel Bakeshop, two little girls in medieval garb, one in a princess outfit, the other in a knight outfit, step out carrying a couple paper bags of what looked like little sweet pastries and desserts.

       “Dude, did we fast forward two months into the future?” Dean asked him the moment they got out of the car.

       “What do you mean?”

       “It looks like Halloween,” Dean said, and as he said it, a group of kids dressed in all sorts of costumes came rushing past them and into the bakeshop. One overly enthusiastic mini-Batman even caught Sam on the leg with a sharp elbow and he winced as he entered the shop. 

      When he opened his eyes again, his vision was assaulted by the chaos of colors and rowdy kids. There was a superhero showdown on the corner table, as kids dueled against each other with their breads and pastries. On another table was a group of fancily dressed children having a tea party with fancy teacups and slices of cake on their plates. On the center table were a couple of older kids recreating what looked like either the statue of liberty using mini cupcakes. There was another table near the door where the parents sat to watch over their kids, and one mom had to rush to stop her son when the little Thor started using his croissant as a hammer on poor Iron Man’s head.

       “Is this like a bakery version of Chuck-E-Cheese’s?” Dean said in amusement.

      Sam just chuckled before ducking at the last second to avoid a flying cream puff.

       “Can I help you gentlemen?” they heard a man with a distinctively British accent say.

      Sam turned to look at him, and was surprised to see a full grown man wearing a bright orange wig and what appeared to be a Harry Potter-themed costume, if the black robes and striped red and yellow scarf was any indication. The crude freckles drawn on his face told Sam he was supposed to be Ron Weasley (he knew his Harry Potter, thank you very much).

       “Yes. We’re Agents Tyler and Perry,” Dean said, and they were both already flashing their FBI badges as they made their way to the counter past running kids and a few more flying pastries.

       “Pardon the mess, gentlemen,” he said, gesturing to the kids. “We hold a costume party for all the kids every Friday afternoon. All products half the price for kids 12 and below, so long as they come in costume,” he said rather proudly. 

       “That’s cool,” Dean said distractedly, a dopey grin on his face, and Sam realized his brother’s attention was now on a couple of freshly baked pies sitting on top of the shelf behind the counter.

       “So, what can I do for you? Is this about that poor girl who died at the altar the other day?”

       “As a matter of fact, it is,” Sam said, taking over for his brother, who was now looked like he could pounce on the pies any second. “Do you mind answering a few questions, Mr…?”

       “Call me Balthazar,” he said, extending his hand out to shake theirs. “And I’m afraid I can’t be of much help to you. I only met her a few times, so did my colleague.”

       “Well, anything you can say about Ms. Brown can help us in our investigation,” Dean explained, finally tearing his gaze away from the pies.

       “We’d also like to talk to your colleague, if he is available,” Sam added.

       “Oh yes, of course, he’s in the kitchen if you want to talk to him,” Balthazar said, gesturing to the door at the far end of the counter.

      Dean nodded at Sam, and Sam got the hint and started making his way further into the bakeshop, stepping over toys and errant kids rolling on the floor.

      When he entered the kitchen, the first thing he noticed was a pair of white-dusted hands kneading dough on the table. He stopped and blinked, looked up at the man’s face and felt his breath get caught.

      It was the man from the diner.

       ‘Not an artist, then,’ he thought as he took another step into the kitchen. He smiled when he realized the man was wearing what looked like a Hogwarts uniform under his white apron, and a hideous-looking hairnet kept his messy black hair away from his face to reveal a lightning bolt drawn on his forehead with a marker. So he was Harry Potter then, making cakes and pastries in this small bakery. Sam had to hold back his laugh at how ridiculous everything seemed.

       “Excuse me?” Sam began, a smile still lingering on his face as he moved closer.

      The man stopped kneading the dough and turned to face him, and Sam found himself staring straight at that pair of intense blue eyes. The five seconds it took for him to cross the kitchen felt like an eternity. On the sixth second, he walked straight into the table, the edge catching him at a dangerously delicate place. Sam thought he saw stars.

       “Are you okay?” the other man asked, a wince of sympathy on his face. He made a move to reach out to Sam, maybe to help him in case he crumpled to the floor in a sobbing mess, but he stopped short when he realized his hands were covered in flour. “The kitchen’s a bit cramped…”

      Sam sucked in a breath and tried to compose himself. “It’s… okay. I’m fine,” he managed to say, and he cringed again when it came out at least an octave high. “I’m from the FBI—“

       “You’re here about Louise,” the man said, the look on his face suddenly turning grave.

       “Yes, I am,” Sam replied, straightening his back in the hopes that the action would return a bit of his lost dignity. “I’m Agent Perry. I’d just like to ask you a few questions Mr… uh…”

       “Oh. Right. Castiel Novak.” the man said, frantically looking for something to wipe his hands on before deciding to use his apron instead. He extended his hand and Sam shook it eagerly, remembering how he watched this exact same hand drumming a tune on the table. “I don’t know if I’ll be of any help to you, Agent Perry,” Sam heard Castiel say.

       “Please, call me Sam,” he told him, deciding it was no big deal to give out his real name. Right? “And any information you can give me will aid our investigation,” he added.

       “Alright, Sam. We can talk in the office,” he said, removing his apron and folding it neatly onto a stool. He peeled off his hairnet next, and like magic his hair poofed wildly out in every direction. Standing like that, he looked every bit the Harry Potter he was supposed to be dressed up as, and Sam thought it was, for lack of a better word, cute. Except, there was something missing, but just as Sam thought of this, Castiel pulled out a pair of round glasses from his pocket and put them on. 

      He must have noticed Sam’s amused expression for he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck in a self-conscious way. “I lost a bet,” he just said before turning around and walking towards the office.

      Sam just smiled and followed closely behind. He almost ran into Castiel’s back when he stopped walking abruptly, the top of Castiel’s head so close to his nose, he found himself staring at the spot where his hair whirled to the left. Then Castiel turned around, their chests almost touching, and looked up at him. Sam forgot how to breathe.

       “I forgot to keep the dough,” Castiel said, before sidestepping Sam and walking back the way they came. “You can go in,” he said without looking back. 

      Sam released a shaky breath and did as he was told.

+++

       “So, first things first, I just need your, uh, information,” Sam began when Castiel joined him in the office after a few minutes. He didn’t really need this for the case, but he couldn’t resist asking it anyway.

       “Information?” Castiel asked as he sat behind his desk across from Sam. “You mean personal information?”

      Sam gulped. “Yes. I mean, uh, only if you want to. I can just look you up on our database if you are—”

       “No, no,” Castiel said, shaking his head. “That would be unnecessary. I can give you everything you want now.”

      Sam blinked. He should NOT have read that statement differently. Nope. “Okay, uh, we could start with name, age, how long you’ve been living here in Pontiac, family or relatives living with you would help too,” Sam told him. _In a relationship or not, sexual preference, classic rock or country…_ Sam added mentally.

      Castiel nodded. “My name is Castiel Novak. 35. I moved to Pontiac almost 10 years ago and started this bakeshop with my friend Balthazar, that man in the orange wig outside.”

       “Yeah, we’ve been introduced,” Sam smiled when he remembered how ridiculous the other man looked in the costume. Castiel, on the other hand, looked good in the robes and round glasses. “So Balthazar is your, um, friend?” Sam ventured.

       “Yes,” Castiel answered, brows knitting together as he did and Sam thought he must have realized the kind of information Sam was fishing from him. Sam gulped again. “Although sometimes I consider him as more of a nuisance,” Castiel added. “He likes making bets, dressing up in costumes, and has a tendency to disappear for weeks at a time. It gets distressing when we have big orders and he decides to vanish.”

       “Ah, that blows,” Sam remarked with a sympathetic smile.

      He was rewarded by Castiel smiling as well, that little upward quirk of his lips that Sam saw in the diner. “Yes, I would say it ‘blows’,” Castiel agreed, bringing his hands up to do air quotes that was just so awkward it made Sam smile even wider.

       “What else… oh yes, I live alone. My apartment is just next door, number 21,” Castiel supplied.

       “Excuse me?” Sam asked, distracted by the smile that still lingered on Castiel’s face.

       “My apartment,” he repeated, and Sam detected a tiny bit of amusement in his voice. “You asked if there were relatives living with me. There aren’t.”

      Sam cleared his throat. “Right, right,” he said, choosing that moment to write down Castiel’s information on his small notebook. He just remembered he was interviewing Castiel for the case, and not as a prospective date. “So, how did you know the victim, Louise Brown?”

+++

       “How did you handle the interview?” Balthazar asked Castiel as they watched the two FBI agents get into their car.

       “I didn’t tell them about your criminal record, if that’s what you’re asking,” Castiel told him.

       “What criminal record?” Balthazar feigned innocence. Castiel just turned away from the window and back to arranging the mini pies and cupcakes on the shelf. Balthazar turned his gaze back out the window, where the big, black car was pulling out of the parking spot. “They seem like good fellows, those two. The shorter one was very interested in your pie.”

      Castiel ignored his friend and walked to the register, giving a pint-sized little mermaid her chocolate fudge cupcake. 

       “The tall one was just interested in you,” Balthazar added.

       “Balthazar,” Castiel said in a warning tone. “That’s not—“

       “Not true?”

       “Not appropriate. He is an FBI agent.”

       “Oh good lord, sometimes you are no fun at all,” Balthazar said, rolling his eyes. “It’s a perfect set-up. He’ll be gone after a few days, a week tops. You can have all the fun you want until then.”

       “Didn’t you hear what I just said? FBI, Balthazar.”

       “So? He probably has a gun, and handcuffs!” Balthazar told him.

       “The cookies are done,” Castiel said before abruptly turning and leaving Balthazar alone at the counter.

       “Bloody prude,” Balthazar mumbled under his breath.

+++

      There were a few things Sam learned about Castiel that afternoon. Castiel was intelligent and gave answers that were straight to the point. He didn’t gesture much when he talked, but his eyes never left Sam as he answered, the weight of his stare making every word out of his mouth sound like a declaration of great importance. Oh, and aside from having really nice hands and shockingly blue eyes, Castiel’s skin looked soft, and his hair was messy, yes, but in a way that made Sam want to run his hands through it to make it even messier. He also had the most irritatingly chapped lips Sam had ever seen, so irritating he wanted to grab Castiel’s face and just moisten his lips for him.

      That was mainly Sam’s thought process through most of the interview, which was why he was surprised he even got anything coherent written down on his notebook. It looked like he was still a professional, after all. 

      Well, not so professional, Sam thought with a small smile as he looked at Castiel’s number saved on his phone while they drove off to their next interview. _I need to have your contact information…in case I have more questions,_ Sam had said to Castiel before he ended the interview. 

      He smiled a little wider. He might need to interview Castiel again, that wasn’t a lie. After all, Castiel was in the church when the bride died. He might’ve seen something. But it would be a lie if he said that was the _only_ reason.

       “Awww, my little Sammy is going through puberty again, I think I’m going to cry,” he heard Dean say.

      Sam just chuckled and closed his phone. “What are you talking about?” 

       “Look at you, you have a crush,” Dean said, tossing Sam an amused look.

       “Right,” Sam said, dismissing his brother’s teases.

       “I was wondering why you were taking so long to interview the baker… was worried you’d left me to go somewhere else, if you know what I mean…”

       “Please,” Sam scoffed, “you were too busy devouring your third slice of pie to remember we were even there on a case.”

      Dean laughed. “Touché.” 

+++  
      Early the next day, Sam found himself lining up at the bakeshop’s counter along with several elderly women, a few joggers, and a couple of nightshift workers at the hospital. He thought some bagels would be a nice breakfast, he told Dean before he left. He just didn’t care to mention he was going all the way to Le Ciel Bakeshop to buy them instead of the diner just across the street.

      Today, though, Sam was disappointed to see a couple of workers were behind the counter instead of Castiel. He paid for his bagels and just as he was about to ask the woman at the counter where Castiel was, he saw him enter the bakeshop bundled in his trench coat and carrying a take-out bag from the diner.

      Castiel looked surprised when he spotted Sam in front of the line. Dressed in just flannels and jeans, he looked very different from the FBI agent that interviewed him before. “You were buying breakfast?” he asked when Sam approached him.

       “Yeah. Just a few bagels for me and my partner.”  
       “A few?” Castiel asked, eyeing the paper bag in Sam’s hand that held at least half a dozen bagels in it.

       “Eight,” Sam confessed. “Got a lot of work he have do today. We need the energy,” he said with a sheepish smile.

      Castiel frowned as he looked up at Sam, big eyes unblinking as he stared at something on Sam’s face. Somehow, Sam felt naked under his gaze and that unnerved him.

       “Is there something on my face?” he asked, self consciously.

       “You are staying at a motel, right?” Castiel inquired.

       “Yeah…” Sam answered, still unsure where this was leading.

       “There’s some cream cheese and butter inside. Come with me,” he told Sam before walking to kitchen.

      Sam grinned and followed eagerly.

+++

      He returned to the motel after two hours, having eaten his share of the bagels at the bakery. When Castiel pulled out a double cheeseburger from his diner take-out bag, Sam was more than surprised. Burgers for breakfast certainly wasn’t one of the weirdest things he saw anybody eat, but it still took him by surprise when Castiel just started eating the burger eagerly. Since he was surrounded by it all the time, he liked to stay away from eating bread, Castiel had explained, unless said bread had a juicy beef patty or two in between them. 

      This somehow led them to talking about other types of food and all the places they visited. Sam had been all over the country for his ‘cases’. Castiel, on the other hand, studied how to be a pastry chef in France, and travelled around Europe learning new cooking techniques.

      Before he knew it, two hours had passed, and he bid a quick goodbye to Castiel, but not before the other man gave him a fresh set of bagels for his partner and bagged the remaining cream cheese and butter he used.

      Sam told Castiel he was a godsend.

      Castiel just smiled and wished him good luck on his case.

+++

      When he returned to the motel, Dean was fuming. They had a lot to do that day, and why did it take him so long to get the bagels? He went back to see the baker, didn’t he? 

      Sam just handed him the bag of bagels, and soon Dean forgot why he was even mad, digging hungrily into the bagels he slathered so profusely with cream cheese.

      If there was one way he knew that could shut Dean up, it was food. And pie.

      Sam made a mental note to buy Dean some pie next time.

+++

      The next day, Sam went back to the bakeshop, and this time, he and Castiel talked about books and their brothers. Sam was careful not to reveal that his partner was actually his brother, while Castiel told him about his irresponsible older brother Gabriel who almost burned down the bakeshop twice.

      This time, Sam stayed for nearly 3 hours.

      The pie shut Dean up faster than the bagels ever could. It continued to be an effective method to placate Dean the next few times Sam disappeared to visit Cas at the bakeshop. Sam was never more thankful for his brother’s obsession with pie.

+++

      Three more days of interviewing and re-interviewing all possible witnesses in Pontiac did not lead them any closer to finding the identity of the witch, or how the victims were chosen. There was no connection among the three victims, and as the hours passed, it was getting clearer and clearer to Sam and Dean that they were at a dead end, and the only way for them to find new leads is if another body turned up. It was not a thought that sat well for both of them.

      Sam looked at the contents of the hex bags from the first two crime scenes again, pouring through notes and materials Bobby sent them to try and find something they may have missed before. An ancient herb, a piece of human skull bone, dried up lizard heart… typical ingredients for exacting revenge, according to one of Bobby’s books. There was nothing distinctive about them, nothing that could help them find the witch. Then there was the problem with the missing hex bag from the third crime scene. 

       “I’m going back to the church to look for the hex bag,” Sam declared, closing his laptop on the table and arranging his folders and notes beside it. 

       “It might not be there anymore, Sammy,” Dean said, not looking up from reading some print-outs of old newspapers from the library. “There were too many people at the church when it happened, it could’ve been picked up by someone… or thrown in the trash after the crime scene was cleared.”

       “Or it could still be there,” Sam argued. “Hidden under a statue or something. We’re going nowhere with this case, Dean. It’s worth a shot,” he said as he stood up and grabbed his jacket. “You comin’?” he asked Dean, who was still busy reading.

       “Go ahead, I’m not in the mood to snoop around a church at night,” Dean told him. “I’m gonna finish this up then go to that bar we passed on our way back. Maybe drink a few beers.”

       “Okay,” Sam said, “I’ll meet you there.”  
+++  
      Sam would admit that his intentions for going to the church weren’t all focused on the case. Le Ciel was just a block away from the church and it would only be a very slight detour if he wanted to pass by it.

      He didn’t know what he expected to see when he came up to the bakeshop. It was late and the shop was already closed. He glanced at the door beside it, apartment 21, and he brought out his phone to look at Castiel’s number for probably the hundredth time since the day he got it. Sam never got the courage to call. He visited the bakeshop, sure, but it was always under the pretense of buying breakfast. If he happened to linger afterwards and eat his breakfast with Castiel inside the office, well, that was just a very nice bonus. But what excuse would he have to call Castiel? Surely, he can’t use the case as a reason. They don’t have new leads, and short of inventing questions to ask, Sam had nothing to work with.

      Then again, he could have just manned up and called him, asked him to have drinks with him, maybe grab a burger or two, just because.

      Sam sighed. _Not tonight,_ he thought as he pocketed his phone. He had more pressing matters to attend to, he told himself as he continued walking to the church.

+++

      Admittedly, looking for a hex bag at night with nothing but a flashlight wasn’t one of Sam’s brightest ideas. If he didn’t find the hex bag when it was clear and sunny the day of the bride’s murder, then the chances of him finding it now after nearly a week was very slim. Still, he searched the church for a good hour before he called it a night started heading to the bar Dean mentioned.

      He spotted Dean by the bar chatting up some girl and Dean gave him a nod to acknowledge his presence before saying something to the woman and making her giggle. Sam knew well enough not to disturb Dean when he was on the prowl, so he purposely walked around them to the far side of the bar and ordered himself a beer. There were a couple of guys chatting loudly and arguing about politics and Sam didn’t want to hear any of it. He moved to a table near the corner to drink his beer in peace.

      Five minutes in and he saw Dean waving at him before his brother turned and headed out of the bar with the woman on his arm. Great. Now he can’t even go back to the motel anytime he wanted.

      Bored, he opened his phone to check his messages, and as if on autopilot, he was back at his phonebook menu scrolling down to the newest entry. Castiel Novak.

       _Would it be weird if I called and ask him if he wanted to go out for a drink?_ He thought again. With Dean blowing of some steam with that chick, he was left here alone for at least a few more hours. The idea of having Castiel here to drink with him was sounding more and more appealing.

       _No._ Sam closed his phone with a shake of his head. _Of course it’d be weird, he chastised himself. You’re the ‘FBI agent’ who interviewed him about a dead girl, and you’re calling him when it’s almost midnight,_ he thought, and his mood turned instantly sour. He downed the rest of his beer and got up to order another one.

      And that’s when he saw him walk in the door. Hair even messier than before, his tan trench coat askew and rumpled, Castiel looked almost like he was dragged out of bed—and he was _not_ happy.

      Sam can’t say the same for himself though. Just as quickly as his mood turned south, it was back up again at the sight of Castiel. Before he could think twice, he was already crossing the floor and heading to where Castiel seated himself on the bar.

       “Hey,” Sam greeted, a wide grin on his face as he approached.

      Castiel turned around and looked genuinely shocked to see him. Sam didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. “Hello,” Castiel returned the greeting just as he recovered from the initial surprise. “I did not expect to see you here. Not still interviewing people, are you?” he asked.

       “Oh? No no,” Sam shook his head. “As you can see, I’m out of my suit,” he said, gesturing to his jeans and his flannel shirt. “No suit, no FBI agent.”

       “Ah. Is that so?” Cas said, one eyebrow arching up in question. 

      Sam nodded. “My partner just wanted to grab a few drinks, but he just left with some chick and now I’m drinking alone,” Sam explained. “But you, what are you doing here?” he asked, that same wide grin returning to his face. He didn’t even bother hiding how happy he was to see Castiel again. “Don’t bakers go to work like really early every day?”

      Castiel looked amused for some reason. “I have apprentices. They work when I don’t,” he told him.

       “Oh. I get it,” Sam nodded. “So, are you just here to grab a drink or—“

       “I’m…” Castiel paused, looking to the side as if he was guilty, “I’m meeting someone. An old friend.”

      Sam’s face fell. “Oh, I get it,” he repeated, this time with less enthusiasm. “I-I guess I’ll just leave you then…”

       “She’s arriving any minute now,” Castiel went on.

       “No worries. I totally understand,” Sam said taking a step backward, and for a moment Castiel looked worried that Sam was leaving.

       “She’s only delivering something,” Castiel added quickly. “It’d take 10, 15 minutes at the most. Not even long enough for a drink”

       _Oh._

       _He wants me to stay,_ Sam thought with glee. ”Then when she leaves, you want to have a drink together?” Sam suggested.

      Castiel smiled at that. “Sure. Let’s have a drink after,” he agreed. 

       “I’ll just be over there, drinking my beer,” he said, pointing to his earlier table.

       “Okay,” Castiel said, the same smile still brightening his features.

+++

      Sam would be lying if he said he didn’t watch their entire conversation like a hawk.

      The woman that Castiel met with was young and pretty, her red hair bright even in the muted lights of the bar. And Sam hated her immediately.

      He watched as they exchanged greetings, and he noted with some satisfaction that when they hugged, Castiel’s hands didn’t linger on her back, nor did any part of Castiel come close to touching her as they sat down and began talking. After a few minutes, he saw her handing Castiel a paper-wrapped package that looked like a small book, and Castiel turned it over a couple of times before putting it inside his pocket. Then they talked some more, and Sam saw the woman ask Castiel something and Castiel replied with a shake of his head. She ordered a beer and Sam frowned. Not good. She began drinking and they continued talking.

      Sam looked at his watch. They’ve been talking for 30 minutes already, and he was growing tired of the woman laughing and occasionally reaching out to grasp Castiel’s arm, and even his thigh at one point. 

      He got up and went to the restroom to take a piss, thinking he had nowhere else to go anyway with Dean surely in their motel room with that girl. He might as well wait it out, if Castiel was still in the mood to drink afterwards.

      When he emerged from the restroom, he saw Castiel alone by the bar, the woman nowhere in sight. Sam hesitated to go up to him thinking that she might just be in the restroom, so he started making his way back to his table instead.

      He stopped, however, when one of the men arguing by the bar earlier approached Castiel. He looked drunk, and he leaned close to Castiel. From where Sam stood, he couldn’t see Castiel’s expression, nor read the man’s lips as he talked to him, but from the way Castiel’s back straightened stiffly, he knew it couldn’t be good.

      Sam crossed the bar in a heartbeat. “Hey, Cas, who’s your friend?” he asked, the nickname flowing from his lips so naturally he had to silently thank his years of conning people for that.

      The man took one look at Sam’s towering form and immediately backed out of Castiel’s personal space.

      Castiel looked up at Sam with big eyes, and though it looked like he was uncomfortable earlier, Sam could see that Castiel was not intimidated by this other man at all.

       “He was just about to leave,” Castiel said before throwing the man a glare that could wilt any person’s spirits.

       “Hey, I was just chattin’,” the man said, standing as straight as he could and puffing his chest at Sam. It didn’t work. Sam was still a good 4 inches and at least 30 pounds heavier than the man. He wouldn’t last 5 minutes in a fight with him. “Geez, can’t a guy talk to another dude nowadays without being harassed by the boyfriend?” he said, shaking his head and walking away.

       “Who was that dick?” Sam said, watching the man’s back as he swayed drunkenly back to his spot on the bar.

       “Just someone clearly too drunk to think,” Castiel said.

       “He didn’t bother you much, did he?” Sam asked as he sat on the barstool beside Castiel’s.

      Castiel shrugged. “He tried to put his hand on my thigh,” he said in a bored tone.

       “What?!” Sam said in alarm.

       “It was of no consequence,” Castiel began. “I told him I’ll cut his fingers off if he touched me,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small pocket knife for Sam to see.

      Sam’s eyes grew wide. “Wow, nice. I’m impressed,” he said with a grin. But damn, Castiel holding a knife was _hot._  
      Castiel smiled. “I went to culinary school. I know how to use knives,” he said, and damn the thought of Casiel holding large kitchen knives and wielding them like swords should not be that hot to Sam. Except it totally was, and slowly Sam could feel his jeans start to get uncomfortably tight.

       “So, uh, where’s your friend? The woman you were talking to?” Sam asked, and thinking about Castiel and that woman together made him momentarily forget his predicament. He needed to stop staring at Castiel too much, it might freak him out.

       “She left while you were in the comfort room,” Castiel answered, putting the knife back in his pocket. He propped himself up on the bar with a hand as he turned his chair to face Sam more. It brought one of his thighs dangerously closer to Sam’s own, and the heat of Castiel’s thigh that Sam felt through his jeans, whether imagined or not, sent a thrill down Sam’s spine.

       “Oh. That’s—“ Sam was starting to say when the bartender came their way, and just in time too because Sam doubted he would find anything decent to end that sentence with. 

      Sam listened as Castiel order a beer for himself, and his eyes were inexplicably drawn to the smooth skin on the side of Castiel’s neck. He traced the length of it with his eyes, from the collar of his plain white shirt up to where the hair on his nape gently curled at the ends. Unconsciously licking his lips and still unable to look away despite his better judgment, Sam realized he had less self control than he originally thought.

      The bartender asked Sam if he had any orders, and Sam finally tore his gaze away from Castiel long enough to order another beer and some fries. He was glad for the momentary distraction the bartender provided. Any more staring from him and Castiel will surely notice his growing predicament.

       “What did you call me earlier?” Castiel asked suddenly the moment the bartender left.

       “Huh?” Sam said dumbly. “What are you—“

       “You called me ‘Cas’,” Castiel said, eyes big and round and almost hopeful.

      Sam swallowed through the lump in his throat. “I did. It seemed natural at the time,” he reasoned.

       “I like it,” Castiel said. “No one’s called me that before. It’s… refreshing.”

      Just like that, Sam was grinning again. “So I can call you ‘Cas’ now?”

      Castiel shrugged. ‘It’s an acceptable name. Balthazar calls me Cassie sometimes. I find it annoying. My older brother, Gabriel, calls me Tillie, which is even worse.”

      Laughter bubbled out of Sam’s throat. “And I thought my brother calling me ‘Sammy’ was bad.” 

       “Sammy is kind of cute compared to my brother’s nicknames for me,” Castiel said before taking a swig of his beer.

      Sam was reaching for another fry when he stopped, his attention drawn to the way Castiel’s mouth closed on the lip of the bottle. The way his Adam’s Apple bobbed with every gulp he took made Sam’s mouth go dry and made the uncomfortable feeling in Sam’s pants escalate to very dangerous territories. 

      Admitting to himself that he was screwed no matter what, Sam reached for his own beer and immediately took huge gulps of it, hoping he’d get smashed enough to not remember embarrassing himself in front of Cas. He placed the bottle down on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. When he turned his gaze back at Castiel, he found the man staring intently at him with an unreadable expression on his face. 

      Now, he had no idea what came over him at that moment (he would plead momentary insanity), but Sam thought it was a good idea to test the waters, and he darted his tongue out and slowly, deliberately licked his lips. 

      A surge of triumph and immense pleasure washed over him as he watched Castiel’s eyes drop their gaze to his mouth, and stayed there long after Sam’s tongue disappeared between his lips.

      Sam was struggling to find his voice after that. He wanted to say something, anything so badly, but he can’t formulate what he wanted to say. Let’s get out of here? The motel’s a short walk away? I would really love to have sex with you right now? 

      Dean was so right when he said he was way out of practice.

      He was saved from having to say anything potentially embarrassing when Castiel dropped a few bills on the bar to cover his tab before abruptly standing from his seat. “I would like to go home now,” he said, his expression serious and his back stiff as he started to walk away, leaving a gaping and confused Sam behind him.

      Scrambling to find his wallet, Sam left some cash on the bar and ran after Cas as quickly as he could. “Wait up!” he called when he spotted him walking further down the street.

      Castiel stopped and turned to look at him, his face as unreadable as before. 

       “Wow, you walk so fast,” Sam mumbled to himself the moment he caught up with Cas. “Why…” Sam said, a bit out of breath, “why’d you… leave so suddenly? Was it something I said? Something I did?”

      The look of confusion on Castiel’s face scared Sam for a moment, until he watched that confusion fade into surprised realization and Castiel actually let out a soft laugh.

       “Forgive me,” Cas said, “I suppose I haven’t been clear.”

      It was Sam’s turn to be confused. “You weren’t?”

       “Sam,” Castiel began, taking a couple of steps closer to him.

      Sam stood up straighter and gulped nervously when Castiel went and invaded his personal space. The other man was now standing so close, he could see the blue in his eyes even in the barely there light of the street. The blue that was barely there as well, the color swallowed up almost entirely by Castiel’s pupils blown wide.

       “I would like to go home now,” Castiel repeated his earlier words, this time his voice was barely above a whisper as he looked up into Sam’s eyes. “And I would like it if you came with me.”

      The gut-wrenching wave of arousal that went straight through Sam at Cas’ words left him unable to form an intelligent reply. Instead, he just managed a nod, and the next thing he knew, Castiel had taken his hand and was leading him down the road to his apartment.

      It was a bizarre way to get picked up, but Sam was not complaining at all.

+++

      When Sam and Castiel reached the apartment, Sam didn’t know what to expect. They were quiet for the rest of the walk, and now the atmosphere was a tad awkward as Castiel shucked off his trench coat and offered his hand out for Sam’s jacket. 

      Sam watched as Castiel deposited the jackets on a coat hanger on the side, and when he was finished, he turned to face Sam again.

       “So,” Sam began, his eyes roaming around what little he could see of the living room in the dark. Castiel hadn’t bothered with the lights at all.

       “So,” Cas mimicked. “We’re at my apartment,” he said.

      Laughter escaped Sam’s throat at Castiel’s statement. “Yeah, we are,” he said, and he barely got the words out before Castiel grabbed the back of his head and brought his face down for a kiss.

      It was hot and fast and Cas’ tongue was doing things in his mouth that made him dizzy, made him surge into the kiss like he was starving. He ran his hands through Castiel’s hair, gripped the back of his head as he sucked on his tongue. Their mouths parted for barely a second before Sam was nipping at Castiel’s bottom lip, making the slighter man shudder and moan.

      Hands tugged at Sam’s shirt and he felt himself being pulled further in to the apartment, their mouths never leaving each other even once. Those hands on his shirt moved to undo his buttons and Sam felt the overwhelming urge to feel Cas’ skin under his fingertips. He had his hands under Castiel’s shirt the next moment, and he felt him shiver under his touch, another moan escaping his lips when Sam’s fingers ghosted over his nipples. Then Sam’s shirt is on the floor, and he didn’t have time to process how quickly Cas undid his buttons before he was retaliating and tearing at the buttons of Cas’ shirt.

      After that, it became a race to see who could undress the other faster, and by the time they reached the bedroom, they were down to their underwear with Castiel’s hand down Sam’s boxers, jerking him quick and fast.

      Sam’s breath was knocked out of him the moment Cas shoved him to the wall, and before he could even regain his bearings, Cas was pulling his boxers down and dropping to his knees on floor. Sam’s eyes went wide at the sight of Castiel, messy haired and pale and so friggin’ gorgeous, on his knees in front of him. A pink tongue darted out to lick the precum beading at the tip of his cock, and Sam’s eyes rolled to the back of his eyelids as those lips closed around the head.

      Cas bobbed up and down the length of Sam’s cock eagerly, urged on by Sam’s hand resting on the back of his head. When Sam dared to look down on Cas again, he saw that he was already completely naked, and one of his hands disappeared behind him, and Sam realized Cas was already fingering himself open for him. “Fuck…” Sam moaned as another heavy wave of arousal clenched deep in his gut.

      In that same instant, he was pulling Cas off of him and lifting him up to stand. He caught Castiel’s lips in a deep kiss again, thrilling at being able to taste himself in Cas’ mouth. Blindly, he pushed Castiel towards the bed and Cas expertly steered them to the right direction without even looking, eyes shut tight in pleasure as one of Sam’s hands found his erection while the other grabbed one of his ass cheeks and squeezed.

      They fell onto the bed in a heap, and by this time, Sam was too far gone to care to look for condoms or lube, he would’ve been content to just jerk off together on the bed. But Castiel took him by surprise when he handed him a foil packet of condom and a bottle of lube. It baffled Sam for only a moment when and how Cas managed to get these until he decided he didn’t care and hastily ripped the foil packaging open and eased the condom onto his cock. He slicked his cock with the lube and by the time he was done, Cas was already on all fours in the middle of the bed. Sam would’ve preferred to see Cas’ face as they fucked, but he wasn’t really complaining, not when Cas had his legs spread wide enough to expose his puckered hole, barely stretched at all from his fingers earlier.

      Sam brought his hands to Cas’ ass and spread the firm globes apart to get a better look. Cas’ hole clenched tighter and Sam cursed loudly. “Oh fuck, Cas,” he groaned, bringing one of his hands to grip the base of his cock tight to prevent himself from coming right then and there just from the sight alone.

      He moved his other hand towards Cas’ entrance, fingers teasing and playing with the rim. Castiel squirmed underneath and said with a strained voice, “I’m ready, Sam. Just do it.”

      On any other day, Sam might have protested. He might have made sure he was ready, maybe took his time stretching out that tight, little hole with his fingers, slick it with his tongue. But not today, as all rational thought seemed to have fled Sam’s mind long ago. 

      Sam slicked his dick with more lube and moved closer. He moved a hand back to Castiel’s ass, kneading the firm flesh as he lined himself up and pushed in.

      When his cock breached Castiel’s opening, they both moaned in unison, and Sam’s eyes rolled back into his eyelids again at the sheer grip of Castiel’s muscles against him. Dear god, was he tight. He pushed in a bit more and shuddered at the pleasure. It was so tight, almost to the point of pain, and Sam was suddenly struck with the realization that this was most probably hurting Cas. He froze on the spot, cock half-buried in Cas’ body. “Am I—“ Sam managed to say before Castiel was silencing him by pushing himself back onto Sam’s cock.

       “It’s okay,” Castiel said breathily. “You’re not hurting me, Sam, so Go. On.,” he continued, punctuating the last two words with a sharp backward thrust of his hips against Sam’s cock.

      Sam shuddered as he held on to Cas’ hips with both hands and pushed all the way in. He exhaled loudly when he finally sank in as deep as he can go. The feeling was intense, the warm, tight grip of Castiel’s muscles all over him almost too much for him to bear. He felt incredibly lucky he even lasted this long.

      Cas hissed a ‘yessss’ into his arms the moment Sam sank in as deep as he could go. His shoulders shook from the pleasure of Sam’s cock stretching him wide. The burn still remained, but oh was it a good kind of burn, and he braced himself as Sam began to move inside of him.

      Wasting no more time, Sam started thrusting into Castiel earnestly. Short and shallow at first, then faster and deeper, testing how much Castiel can take. When Castiel’s moans only grew louder with each snap of Sam’s hips, Sam let go of his reservations and just slammed into Cas as hard and as fast as he could. And Castiel just took everything Sam gave him, groaning and crying out his pleasure till his voice was wrecked. 

      And just like that, Sam was coming long and hard and fast. His orgasm punched through him violently, and he buried himself balls deep into Cas’ body as he came.

      Cas came almost at the same time, his hands frantically jerking himself off and splattering the sheets with his come. His inner muscles clenched tight against Sam’s cock still pulsing deep within him, and Sam swore and dug his fingers deeper, harder on the flesh of Castiel’s hips at the sudden intense sensation enveloping his cock.

      Sam collapsed on top of Cas and for a few minutes, they stayed like that, neither one willing to move. Finally, though, Sam regained his senses, and rolled over to the side. “Thanks for asking me to your apartment,” Sam told Cas, and Cas gave him a lazy smile in reply. 

       “Thanks for saying ‘yes’.”

+++

      Castiel’s apartment looked very different in the morning, as Sam discovered when he started collecting his clothes scattered on the floor. He was wearing one of Cas’ old sweatpants as he walked around the apartment. It was a little too tight on the waist and a little too short for Sam’s legs but it was better than walking naked after his shower.

      The apartment was bigger than it looked outside, with a kitchen decked out like one of those fancy model kitchens in interior design magazines. The living room was a large open space that looked more like an antique bookstore, ceiling-to-floor shelves with nothing but books of every kind and genre lining the walls. On the far end of the living room, Sam was glad to see a huge TV mounted onto the wall flanked by shelves of DVDs and CDs. Castiel was a man of many interests, it seemed. 

      Sam managed to gather most of his clothes when he discovered he was missing a sock. He looked around the living room and spotted the errant sock near the hallway leading to the front door. He moved to pick up his sock when he saw a door he failed to notice earlier. The door was open about a foot wide and from where Sam was standing, he could see another floor-to-ceiling shelf like those in the living room. This one though, was a bit different. It had what looked like stacks of old tomes at the bottom, and above it, vials of different colored liquids and powders. There were ancient-looking jars filled with tiny items Sam couldn’t make out.

      It looked almost like a shelf of spices and ingredients, except that he has never seen anyone keep their cooking ingredients closer to the main door than to the kitchen.

      Sam frowned as he felt he beginnings of suspicion stir inside him. He walked closer to the room and as he reached a hand out to open the door wider, Castiel came out of the room.

       “You got your clothes?” he heard him say.

      Sam dropped his hand back to his side and turned to Castiel. He was standing stiffly by the bedroom door, fully clothed but with his hair still damp from his shower. “Uh, yeah, got them all here,” Sam answered with a grin.

      Castiel didn’t smile back. 

      Sam swallowed the lump in his throat as cold dread washed over him. He moved away from the door, casually fixing the clothes draped over his arm. Inside, his heart was pounding fast and hard. “I should get dressed. My partner’s probably waiting for me,” he said.

       “Yes, of course,” Castiel said as he stepped out of the doorway to let Sam pass. His eyes never left Sam from one moment, and when Sam closed the bathroom door behind him, he felt like he was going to puke.

      He never thought Castiel’s blue eyes could look that cold.

+++

      The moment Sam disappeared into the shower, Castiel looked back at the door Sam was about to open wider if he hadn’t shown up at just the right time. But judging by the dread and suspicion hidden behind Sam’s smile, what he saw was more than enough.

      Castiel glared at the door, as if its mere existence was causing him physical pain. With a flick of his wrist, the door swung itself closed and the knob’s locking mechanism turned on its own, bolting the door shut.

      He looked back at the bathroom door, still closed, and ran a hand through his hair. He should have never listened to Balthazar. He knew FBI agents were dangerous. But this was a whole different thing.

      Quietly, he took his cell phone and padded to the living room window. Watching the people go about their early morning rush, Castiel dialed Balthazar’s number. He tapped his long fingers on the wooden windowsill as he waited for him to answer.

       “Shouldn’t you be here by now?” Balthazar said in lieu of a greeting.

       “We have a problem,” Castiel said, his voice low and deadly serious. His hand gripped the windowsill tight.

       “Is this about your FBI agent boy toy? Because if it is, you know I want the details…“ Balthazar joked.

      Castiel let go of the windowsill, and on the wood, a palm-shaped scorch mark appeared. “They’re not FBI,” Castiel told him. “They’re hunters.”

+++

**Part 2**

       “You okay Sammy?” Dean asked Sam as they drove to the local high school.

      Finally after days of finding nothing, they catch a break. All three victims attended the same high school, though the second victim moved to Michigan in the middle of his second year, which was why he wasn’t in the yearbooks when they checked.

       “I’m fine,” Sam said, but that was farther from the truth. All he could think about was that room, and Castiel’s cold behavior towards him afterwards. It looked like he was guarded, like he didn’t want Sam to see the room. It only made the alarm bells ring harder in Sam’s head. And yet, despite this, he still could not reconcile the Castiel he knew with the cold-blooded witch they were looking for. It just didn’t fit. “Why would you ask that?” he added.

       “Well… because you’ve been acting like a zombie ever since you got back. Bad night?” Dean asked, tossing his brother a sympathetic smile.

       “No,” Sam said with a light chuckle. “It’s probably just lack of sleep.”

      Dean grinned at that, a lecherous glint in his eyes. “Oh so it was a good night then?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

      Sam rolled his eyes. “Better than yours, I bet.”

       “Ooooh, ouch!” Dean said, sucking in a breath. His ‘date’ was a screamer, and not the good kind. Dean still had a ringing in his ears to prove that.

+++

      The trip to the high school was not a bust like all the other leads they’ve gotten so far. In fact, the high school provided them with too many possible leads. It was built in the 1800s, and since then, there have been over a hundred deaths related to the students and the staff of the school. 

      Their job was to narrow it down, and a couple of hours into going through the records, Dean received a phone call. The police found another body. A man was found in his apartment, drowned in his kitchen sink.

      His body was still in the same position when Sam and Dean arrived at the scene. The man’s feet were flat on the floor and his body bent downwards to a sink full of sudsy water. They watched as the crime scene investigators moved the body out of the sink and laid it down onto a clear plastic sheet.

      Sam felt the bile rise in his throat as he looked at the man’s face. Even with the discoloration of his skin, Sam recognized the man. 

      He was the drunk that tried to touch Castiel in the bar the night before.

       “Excuse me,” Sam said as he left the man’s apartment hastily.

       “What the—wait!” Dean called out, but Sam just continued and disappeared outside the apartment.

      The people in the room looked at Sam’s retreating form curiously before turning their gaze at Dean.

      Dean blinked and shifted his stance to a more casual one. “Heh, my partner may be big, but he’s a softie,” Dean joked with a lopsided grin.

+++

      The sun was quickly setting and Sam found himself on the familiar path leading down to the bakeshop, numerous questions swirling in his head. What if they’d been wrong? What if there was no connection between the victims? What if they all died just because they somehow ended up pissing off one powerful witch?

      What if, all this time, Castiel never wanted to be anywhere near Sam? What if he was only a nuisance, someone Castiel had to keep an eye on in case they were getting too close to finding him out? What if Castiel wanted him and Dean dead next?

      Sam stopped to take a breath as fear gripped his chest. This was his entire fault. If Castiel turned out to be the witch, he just endangered his life and Dean’s. And he will never forgive himself if something happened to Dean because of him.

      He whipped his phone out and for once, called Castiel’s number without hesitation.

      Castiel answered after a few rings. “Sam?” he asked, and he didn’t know why, but just the sound of his voice made Sam weak, made Sam dread even going anywhere near the bakeshop. “Why are you—“

       “Are you at the bakeshop or your apartment?” Sam asked almost too hastily.

       “I’m at the bakeshop… why?” Cas asked.

       “Nothing. I just… I’ll meet you there,” Sam said.

+++

      The moment he saw Sam walk in the bakeshop, Castiel’s face turned cold. He had a long talk with Balthazar about these hunters, and he knew exactly what he needed to do.

      Sam approached the counter reluctantly. Just seeing Castiel’s face again confused him. If Castiel was the witch, he could have killed him several times over by now. So why didn’t he? Instead, last night happened, and Castiel’s touches, his moans, the way he shivered under his touch and leaned in to his kisses, they all felt so real. He couldn’t possibly be the witch.

       “Hey,” Sam greeted, his face was pale and when he smiled, it looked more pained than happy.

       “Hey,” Castiel returned the greeting. “Rough day?” he asked.

       “Yeah,” Sam answered. “We just found a new body,” he said, watching Castiel’s face carefully for any reaction. He didn’t get any.

       “Oh. I see. That’s… unfortunate,” Castiel said, tinkering with something in the cash register.

      Sam didn’t know what he wanted to accomplish by going to Castiel alone. He refused to answer Dean’s calls since he left the dead guy’s apartment. He wanted to know for sure first before he told Dean. And if it came down to it and Castiel really was the witch, he wanted to be the one to end it as well.

      Or maybe, he just wanted to be proven wrong.

      Sam heaved a heavy sigh. “I… Can I—“ he began.

      Castiel tilted his head to the side as he waited for Sam to continue.

       “I’ll just order a slice of apple pie for my partner and be on my way,” he said. “I just left the scene because I needed to catch my breath. Sorry I can’t stay,” he told Castiel, and he found that he meant it too. 

      He spied a small, almost apologetic smile on Castiel’s face before the man nodded and turned away to prepare his order.

+++

      Picking the lock to the apartment had been a piece of cake. In a different time and place, he’d be concerned for the person living in the apartment, but this time Sam was glad.

      Sam closed the door behind him and looked at the apartment barely lit by the streetlamp outside. To think he’d been here just the night before, for a totally different reason.

      Sam shook his head to try and focus. He pulled out the small flashlight he always carried and went straight for the door of that room. Dropping the paper bag with the pie on the floor, he crouched and started working on the lock. Picking this lock was a bit harder, but years of practice had Sam opening it within minutes.

      Pocketing his lock-picking tools, Sam took a deep breath and opened the door.

      And there it was. Shelves lined with vials of what Sam can only assume were potions of different kinds, jars filled with dried herbs and yes, even dried animal parts, and small sacks of powder and grains that were for anything but cooking. There were also stacks of old books, older than even some in Bobby’s collection, and on top of a table was a small, leather bound book that was about the same size as the package the woman gave Castiel.

      Sam walked to the table and shined his flashlight onto the book. The pages were brittle and yellow, and written on it were symbols Sam had never seen before. It looked like a spell book. And beside it on the table was the one thing Sam dreaded to see the most. A hexbag.

      Open and unlaced, the hexbag’s contents were spilled onto the table next to the book. An ancient herb, a piece of a human skull, a lizard heart…

      Sam stumbled backward as he felt his chest constrict again. Until the very last second before he opened the door, he wished he was wrong. That Castiel wasn’t a witch, and that everything was a big misunderstanding. But this alone was enough proof. There was no mistake. He was right. Castiel was the witch. He had to be killed.

       “I don’t take it too lightly when someone breaks into my apartment…”

      A chill ran down Sam’s spine as he heard that voice, and on instinct, he went for his gun and turned around. Just as quickly as he did, he felt a blow to his chest so hard, he saw stars. His gun clattered to the ground just as he was slammed to the wall, the bottles on the shelves rattling and falling in the impact. A strong force pinned him there, unable to even turn his head to the side, his arms flat on the wall, feet dangling inches above the floor. His vision swirled when he opened his eyes, but he didn’t need to see the person by the door to know who it was. “Castiel,” he said through gritted teeth.

       “Sam,” Castiel said with a nod. “I see you couldn’t resist having a look in here,” Cas said, and just as he did, the lights went on all over the apartment, and Sam’s eyes were assaulted by the bright light. “Well, you’re here already; you might as well look to your heart’s content.”

      When his eyes adjusted again, he could see Castiel was walking closer, his face impassive and his arms stiff on his sides. “You’re a witch,” Sam accused. 

      Castiel stopped. “Yes, yes I am,” he admitted, and hearing him confirm it only made Sam’s chest grow tighter. How could he have been so stupid? To fall prey to his emotions, to fall for a witch no less? 

       “And you, you’re a hunter,” Castiel said next.

       “What?” Sam asked in confusion.

       “A hunter,” Castiel repeated, and there was a hint of disgust in his voice. “And you’re here to kill me.” 

       “H-how…? You knew this whole time?” Sam asked, and 

       “I didn’t,” Castiel replied. “The anti-possession tattoo was a dead giveaway, though.”

      Sam felt the bile rise in his throat. “Why are you doing this?” Sam choked out, “Why kill all those people?”

      Cas visibly flinched at that. “Is that what you think?” he asked, voice low, and Sam couldn’t tell if he imagined the look of hurt in Castiel’s eyes or not. “You believe I killed them?”

      Sam gulped. “How can I not?” he answered. “You lied about everything. You’re a witch! And you have the exact same hex bag on your table…”

      This time, it looked like Cas was affronted. “I lied?” he asked. “What about you?!” he growled out, eyes flashing bright blue and wild and Sam realized this was the first time Castiel was showing his anger. “Was there any truth to the stories you told me? Do you even have an older brother?!”

      Sam didn’t know what to think of this. It sounded like Castiel felt hurt. Betrayed, even, by him. But why?

       “This isn’t about me. You have to pay for the lives you took,” Sam said, though the fight in his voice was barely there.

      The look Castiel gave him burned with so much anger and hurt, it made Sam flinch. Then it was gone, his blue eyes becoming dull as he gave a defeated sigh. Suddenly, Sam felt the force pinning him to the wall disappear, and he fell to the floor with a thump.

       “I didn’t kill those people, Sam,” Cas said quietly.

      Sam looked up at him, confusion etched in his face.

       “I’ve never killed anyone. I don’t use my powers that way.”

       “Y-your powers…” Sam repeated.

       “I’m a white witch, Sam,” Castiel revealed. “All the potions, and spells you see here aren’t for harming people; they’re for healing, for protection. I research about old spells and rituals, I translate spell books from Latin, and from there, I make new ones. That’s what I do. I don’t kill.” 

      Sam glanced at the vials and other herbs on the shelves. He wanted to believe him so much, but he didn’t want to be wrong again. He can’t afford to be wrong. “And the hex bag?” he asked.

       “That’s the hex bag that killed Louise,” he told him. “I found it tied under one of the pews. I couldn’t let the police take it. They wouldn’t know what to do with it. I did,” Castiel explained as he walked to the desk. He took the hex bag on his palm and rolled the herb between his fingers. “I’ve been studying them. Trying to find the witch who made it.”

       “And?” Sam urged on.

       “I’ve learned a few things but I have not been successful yet,” Castiel said, placing the hex bag back onto the desk. When he turned to look at Sam again, Sam was up, and suddenly he was crushed in a tight embrace.

       “Thank god,” Sam said as he buried his face on the side of Castiel’s neck. “I’m so glad it wasn’t you.”

      Castiel’s eyes went impossibly wide. “You—you believe me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

      Sam released Cas from his hug to look him straight in the eyes. “Yeah,” Sam answered. Then he smiled wide. “Yeah, I do.”

       “That’s… that’s great,” Cas said with a small smile.

      The obvious relief in Castiel’s face was enough to make the guilt churn in Sam’s stomach. “Oh Cas, I am so sorry I accused you of killing those people,” he blurted out.

       “I think I understand why you would jump to that conclusion,” Cas said, that same smile still on his face. “But it doesn’t matter anymore, I’m just happy you believed me.”

      Sam smiled and pulled Cas to him for another tight hug. 

      They just stayed like that, quietly content in each other’s arms for a few minutes. But slowly, Sam moved his face closer to Cas’ neck. This time his lips lingered on Cas’ skin, and he inhaled his scent. “You smell sweet,” he murmured before he started kissing his way up Castiel’s jaw.

      Shivering, Castiel held on tighter to Sam. “It…it must be the cake I just baked…” he said breathlessly, as Sam started nipping at his jaw.

       “You tasted sweet last night too…” Sam whispered before his lips moved to kiss Castiel’s.

      It was a slow, languid kiss, Sam taking time to learn Castiel’s mouth with his tongue, to memorize every shiver Castiel made as he moved his hand under his shirt to trace the flesh just above his hipbone with his fingers. It was insane how much he can’t get enough of him, and when he felt himself being slowly pulled out of the room by Cas’ deceptively strong hands, he knew he wasn’t the only one.

      They continued kissing as Cas led him into the living room. Castiel suddenly yanked him down and they fell onto the sofa, Sam on top of Cas with their legs tangled together on the edge.

      Castiel squirmed beneath him and Sam shuddered when he felt the outline of Cas’ erection slide deliciously against his own. He sat up and started removing his clothes, but Cas stopped him with a hand to his chest.

       “Please, Sam,” Castiel said. “Let me do this.”

       “Do what?” Sam asked, but Castiel didn’t reply. Instead he started whispering something, a spell perhaps, and Sam felt a bit of nervousness mixed in with his curiosity. 

      In the blink of an eye, his clothes were gone, and so were Castiel’s. When he looked to the side, there they were, neatly folded on the coffee table. “Whoa,” Sam gasped. Then he turned back to Cas with a sly grin. “If you’d told me you could do that last night, we would’ve saved a whole lotta time.”

      Cas smiled almost shyly. “I can do more,” he said, and was that a blush on his face?

       “Oh?” Sam asked, reaching down to take both their cocks in his hand while his other hand propped him up on the sofa. Cas let out a soft moan, hands flying to grab Sam’s arms as Sam began stroking. “Show me,” Sam whispered in Castiel’s ear, biting down lightly at the lobe then licking the reddened flesh.

      Castiel was breathless when he spoke again, and Sam realized he was chanting something again. By the end of the spell, Cas had his eyes screwed shut and he was shaking, hands gripping Sam’s upper arms to the point of pain. “Are you okay?” Sam asked worriedly.

      Castiel nodded, opening his eyes a fraction to look at Sam. “I-I’m ready,” Cas managed to say between heavy breaths.

       “You’re ready…?” Sam repeated in confusion.

      Cas shot him an impatient look before he pulled Sam’s hand off their dicks, held it by the wrist and led his hand down to his balls, and down still, until Sam’s fingers reached his entrance—and Sam’s eyebrows went skyward.

       “You… did this?” Sam asked in disbelief as his fingers traced Castiel’s rim. It was already loose and slick with something, and when Sam plunged a finger up to the last knuckle, it met almost no resistance. “Fuck, Cas,” Sam groaned as he added another finger easily and pumped them in and out of Cas’ hole. “Shit,” he cursed again, as he tried to have another finger join the other two. It was a tight fit, but Cas was writhing in pleasure and moaning incoherently beneath him. “I’m not… hurting you, am I?” he asked.

      Cas shook his head. “I can h-heal most injuries very quickly,” he said, and when Sam’s fingers found that bundle of nerves deep inside of him, Castiel’s back arched off the sofa and he came with a cry, his cock jerking between them as ribbons of his come splattered their stomachs.

      But god, Cas was so beautiful when he came, and Sam didn’t so much as blink as he watched Castiel’s face contort in a look of pure pleasure, his jaw going slack, big blue eyes heavy lidded, his cheeks splashed with the most beautiful red. It was almost enough to make Sam come as well. 

      Almost.

      Sam bent down to kiss him as he withdrew his hand from Castiel’s slick hole. It was another slow and deep kiss, and he didn’t realize he was thrusting his cock against Castiel’s thigh until a hand closed on his erection and gave a few long strokes.

       “Ungh,” Sam groaned, “…you d-don’t—“ Sam was trying to say, but he lost all words when Castiel lifted one of his legs and draped it over the backrest of the sofa, exposing himself to Sam’s eager gaze. He watched as Cas’ hand slid down the inside of his own thigh, until those fingers Sam has grown to love so much were now tracing his hole. Cas dipped a couple of his fingers inside shallowly, and Sam’s breath hitched when Cas slowly pulled his fingers to the side, opening himself up obscenely in front of Sam. “Fuck me, Sam,” he said in his low, gravelly voice. Sam shuddered violently as his dick twitched at the sight. And really, how could anyone say ‘no’ to that?

      Without any more hesitation, Sam moved closer and lined up his cock against Cas’ already slick entrance. Glancing up at Castiel’s face to watch his reaction, Sam finally pushed in, both men groaning in pleasure as Sam buried himself to the hilt in one go. 

      Sam thought in that instant that nothing could feel better than Cas, gripping him tight, muscles fluttering against his cock. He rocked into Cas, long slow strokes that hit Castiel’s prostate with deliberate accuracy. And when Sam looked into Castiel’s too blue eyes, and Castiel stared black, he thought nothing could feel better than Cas, indeed. Cas, who looked at him as if he’d known him forever. Cas, who clung to his arms as if he would never let go. Cas, who at that moment, smiled at him and made him feel he was loved, made him feel that despite all the wrong he had done in the past, he deserved to be happy too. 

      When Sam came deep inside Cas, it was like nothing he had ever felt before. Stars and galaxies exploded in his vision, and his skin felt like it was on fire. He seized, gripped the backs of Castiel’s thighs as he rode the wave and continued thrusting even through his own spend. When he collapsed on top of Castiel, he was exhausted, his energy instantly drained, and he didn’t even register his eyelids starting to droop before he lost consciousness.

+++

      When Sam woke up after a few minutes, he was disoriented. He was lying still on the sofa, naked save for a blanket draped over his lower half, and Castiel was nowhere to be seen. He sat up, peered under the blanket and saw that he was clean. His soft cock was sensitive and it was almost painful when he moved, but other than that, there was no trace he and Cas were even together. “Cas?!” he called out.

      For a moment, no one answered, and Sam felt panic start to rise in his throat. Just when he was about to get up, he saw Castiel walk in from the kitchen wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and holding a cup of coffee in his hands.

       “I believe that’s your brother again,” Cas said as he approached, and for a moment Sam didn’t understand what he was referring to. Castiel pointed at the coffee table, and when Sam looked, his phone was on top of his clothes, vibrating.

      Sam reached for the phone just as it stopped ringing. He was right. Dean had been calling him, 26 times now.

       “That IS your brother right? Dean, the one you told me about. You weren’t lying about him?” Castiel asked as he sat on the armchair across from the sofa.

       “Yeah. It’s my brother. I didn’t lie about anything, except for me being an FBI agent,” he revealed.

       “That’s a relief.”

       “And I take it you didn’t lie about Gabriel too?” Sam asked as he opened his messages and started checking the texts Dean left him.

       “No,” Castiel shook his head. “Though I wish I did.”

      Sam saw the enraged texts and bet there was probably a dozen or more angry voice mails that Dean left him. “Yikes, Dean’ll be mad at me. I better call him.”

       “Why would he be mad at you? Are you expecting him?” Cas asked in surprise.

      “No, no. See, my partner, you know, the one who’s in love with your pies? That’s my brother.”

       “I see. No wonder you never mentioned your partner’s name,” Castiel said as it dawned on him. “Are you going to tell him about me?” Cas asked, and Sam didn’t miss the nervous edge to his voice.

       “Yeah, yeah I will. He’s my brother. And he already knows I like you a lot so…”

       “Wouldn’t he misunderstand, though? If you tell him I’m a witch?”

       “It’s Dean. He’ll understand,” he said as he pushed the call button. “Plus, you make excellent pies.”

+++

      Dean does more than understand when Sam explained to him what happened. He was even supportive of his brother’s ‘one true love’, as he called it.

      He met up with them at Castiel’s apartment, and though he looked at Castiel with suspicion as he entered his home, Dean was convinced of Cas’ innocence soon after. The freshly baked apple pie waiting for him when he arrived helped a lot.

      Castiel’s extensive knowledge of spells and magic gave them new insight into the killings. He told them the witch was very young, less than a century old, and that the hex bags were designed for specific people, not random victims. The magic of the hex bags spoke of revenge, Cas told them, possibly for the death of someone close to the witch.

      Finally, after looking over the records and newspaper clippings they got of the school, they found what they were looking for. A young boy died 20 years ago when the school held a fair by the riverside. The boy drowned in the river, and witnesses claim to have seen a group of unidentified children pushing him around and making fun of him in the minutes leading to his death.

       “Fifty bucks says those kids are our victims,” Dean said.

       “It wouldn’t be far-fetched,” Castiel agreed.  
       “Get this,” Sam said when he found an old police report among the files. “The boy’s only relative was his mom, and she was admitted to a mental facility shortly after he died. She escaped the facility and was never heard from again.”

       “Is there a picture?” Dean asked, and when Sam shook his head, he let out an exasperated sigh. “Great. How do we find her now?” Dean asked.

       “Her name should be more than enough,” Castiel said.

      Sam and Dean looked at Cas in question, and Cas just shrugged. “I know of a few spells to summon other witches. They don’t seem happy when you do that though…” Cas explained.

      Dean’s face brightened. “Well, we can always kill her before she throws a hissy fit. Let’s get to it then!”

      Sam, however, was not so enthusiastic. “Are you sure you can do this?” he asked. “That witch could be very dangerous.”

       “And so can I,” Castiel replied. “Just leave it to me,” he told him. 

+++

      The summoning ritual took less than five minutes. They were at the parking lot behind the bakeshop, where Castiel drew symbols in the pavement with a piece of chalk. There was no fireworks, no explosions, no lightning crackling in the sky when the witch appeared in front of them. Just a puff of smoke and there she was, her face contorted in a look of pure rage. She threw her hands up and a force slammed against Sam and Dean, but it was as if there was a bubble surrounding them and they merely fell to the floor, a little shaken but otherwise unhurt. Only Cas remained standing.

      The witch was baffled to see Cas unaffected by her magic, and she tried again. A gust of wind ruffled Castiel’s hair and made his trench coat flap behind him, but other than that, he was impervious to whatever she was throwing at him.

       “What are you?!” she hissed in anger.

       “I’ve had enough,” Castiel said, a chilling tone in his voice that made even Sam shiver. With a flick of his wrist, the witch is thrown violently across the pavement. 

      She coughed up blood, and looked up at Cas with unfocused, glowing red eyes. “You’re just like me. How could you do this to your own kind?”

      Castiel stepped forward. “I am nothing like you,” he said before he snapped his fingers and the woman exploded into tiny shards of crystal that disintegrated when they touch the ground.

      From a few feet away, Sam and Dean watched in awe. “Dude,” Dean said, looking at Sam with a wide grin. “Your boyfriend’s one badass mofo.”

      Sam laughed and just punched Dean on the arm before standing up and walking to Cas. “That… that was amazing. You had her outclassed in every possible way.”

      Castiel smiled. “Thank you for the compliment. But a witch as young as her couldn’t have possibly held a candle against me.”

      Sam blinked and looked at Cas questioningly. “So I take it you’re not 35?” 

       “No,” Cas admitted. “There may be another number before the 3.”

      Sam’s eyes grew wide. “Whoa, that’s one heck of an age difference.”

       “You aren’t pleased?” Cas said tentatively.

      Sam laughed and slung his arm around Castiel’s shoulder. “Honestly? I think it’s hot.”

       “What’s hot?” Dean asked as he joined them. “No, wait. Never mind. Don’t tell me,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s getting late, I’m gonna go pack our stuff,” he said as he turned to grab their bag of supplies and weapons from the floor. “Man, powers like that could really come in handy during hunts,” he mumbled to himself.

       “So does this mean you two are leaving now?” Castiel asked, and when Sam turned to look at him, he saw the sadness in his eyes.

       “We have other hunts to go to,” Sam began, but suddenly he was struck with an idea. “Hey, look, I know we’ve only known each other for a short while…”

       “You aren’t proposing, are you? I would like a proper date before that,” Cas deadpanned.

      Sam can’t help but chuckle. “Not proposing, no. But…” he said, hesitating to continue. He took Cas’ hand in his and stared at those long elegant fingers that he adored since he first laid eyes on them at the diner. “…Dean was right.”

      Castiel blinked. “Dean was right?” he repeated Sam’s words.

       “Yeah. Your powers, they could really help us with our hunts.”

       “You want me to use my powers for your hunts?” Cas clarified.

       “Well yes, but we won’t be using you, you’re not a tool. You’d travel with us, and you’d be there helping us… it’s different…” Sam stopped, then chuckled. “I am so bad at this,” he said. “What I’m saying is…” Sam stopped again, taking a deep breath. “If you come with us, I won’t have to spend so much gas money travelling to Pontiac every time I want to see you.”

      Castiel stared at Sam’s face. There was hope there, and an innocence Cas had yet to see in someone else that had seen as much horror and death as Sam. There was also love and affection. “I thought you weren’t proposing?” Castiel said with a small smile. 

      Sam gave him a confused look.

       “I would still like that date though,” Castiel added. “And I do not think I am comfortable rooming with your brother. He seems to only see me as a source of pie.”

      Sam felt like he was dreaming. He didn’t know if he heard Cas correctly or not, but that smile he gave him, and the reassuring squeeze of Cas’ hand on his gave him all the confirmation he needed to know. His face split into a wide grin as he realized what Castiel’s words meant.

      The look of unbridled joy on Sam’s face made Castiel’s heart swell, and when Sam swooped down to give him an open-mouthed kiss, he knew he won’t regret making this decision so quickly.

+++  
      Balthazar came to Le Ciel Bakeshop late that day, only a little later than his usual, and the moment he stepped in he knew there was something wrong. On the shelves, along with the pies and the cakes and the pastries, was a whole line of chocolates, candies, lollipops and other sweets.

       “Oh bollocks,” he gasped as he rushed to the kitchen. What he saw only confirmed his suspicions.

       “Heya, Balthy,” Gabriel greeted him as he sat atop the work table, swirling his finger in the air as a giant lollipop floated in front of him, only getting bigger as Gabriel used his magic to work the colorful soft candy mixture beside him.

       “Gabriel, where is Castiel?” Balthazar asked carefully.

       “My bro? Oh he ran off,” Gabriel said, his tone unconcerned. “Said he’ll be back in a few weeks, or months, to check if I haven’t burned down his precious bakeshop.”

       “He ran off?!” Balthazar said in shock. “And he left you in charge of the bakeshop? Impossible!”

       “Hey, man, if you can do it every now and then, he can too. Besides, he didn’t leave me in charge. He left you in charge. I’m only here to pass the time, maybe befriend a few kids… and their hot, single moms,” he said, as he made a caramel candy dance in the air before flying into his mouth.

       “No, really… what did you do to your brother?” Balthazar asked, still not believing a word Gabriel said.

       “Don’t believe me? Sheesh, fine. He left a note on his table. Go look at it. You’ve known my bro for a few centuries, I’m sure you can tell if it’s his handwriting or not.”

      Balthazar reluctantly went to Castiel’s office, and true enough there was a note on it. He read it twice, three times before he flopped onto the seat, unsure whether he was feeling happy for his friend, or dreading spending time with his friend’s crazy brother. He looked at the note again, and decided he was genuinely happy for Cas.

> _Dear Balthazar,_
> 
> _I will be leaving for a while with Sam and Dean Winchester, the hunters we met. I think I’m quite taken with Sam, ‘the tall one’, as you said. He has asked me to accompany them in their hunts, and I thought it would be a good change. You have always told me to use my magic and my knowledge for something more that baking cakes and translating old texts for Anna. I thought I’d do just that and instead try my hand at hunting. I can help more people this way._
> 
> _Do not worry. I will visit the bakeshop whenever I can. In the meantime, I called up my brother to help you out. I may have bribed him with a few of my ancient texts on how to make inanimate objects dance. He seemed to be enthusiastic about trying to make gummy bears dance the lambada. In any case, he should be there by now._
> 
> _Please, try to get along with him._
> 
> _Don’t burn the bakeshop down._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Castiel_  
> 

      Balthazar smiled as he folded up the note and placed it back on the desk. “900 years old, and the man finally finds something he’s interested in besides baking and burgers,” Balthazar said. 

      The smell of something burning jolted Balthazar from his seat and he rushed out to the kitchen yelling, “Gabriel, for the love of god, if you destroy this shop, I will make all your candies disappear!”

+++

      The End.

      Hope you liked it! Feedback is love. <3

 **Original Prompt:** Not-an-angel AU. Castiel as any other kind of supernatural creature. Go nuts. (I’d like it if Sam were still human, and also still a hunter, but feel free to play around with him and his back story.)


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